


Pushing Up the Daises

by awesomecookies



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Ash Lynx Needs A Hug, But Everything is also not beautiful and everything still hurts, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Everything Hurts, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt, It's hanahaki au, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Okumura Eiji Needs a Hug, Pining, Unrequited Love, this fic will hurt you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:47:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22694284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomecookies/pseuds/awesomecookies
Summary: There are flowers clogged in my throat, vines curl on my lungs, rooted deep inside and I could hardly breathe. It grows only when I think of you, and the buds bloom only when I’m near you.My chest is a garden, my heart the soil, and my blood the water that gives it life. My ribs are the walls that protect it, flowers bloom in them which I cough out of my lips. They’re meant to give me oxygen, but I could hardly breathe.My body grows roses and the thorns constrict my breaths. They pierce me from inside as I see you smile. Their stem coiled in my stomach and crawled up to my mouth. They produce something beautiful and yet purchased at the behest of my pain.They bloom when I’m with you and I could hardly breathe.-Asheiji Hanahaki Disease AU
Relationships: Ash Lynx & Okumura Eiji, Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 12
Kudos: 106





	Pushing Up the Daises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crabbones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crabbones/gifts).



> Hi...this will hurt you...in a way. Happy Valentines Day

_There are flowers clogged in my throat, vines curl on my lungs, rooted deep inside and I could hardly breathe. It grows only when I think of you, and the buds bloom only when I’m near you._

_My chest is a garden, my heart the soil, and my blood the water that gives it life. My ribs are the walls that protect it, flowers bloom in them which I cough out of my lips. They’re meant to give me oxygen, but I could hardly breathe._

_My body grows roses and the thorns constrict my breaths. They pierce me from inside as I see you smile. Their stem coiled in my stomach and crawled up to my mouth. They produce something beautiful and yet purchased at the behest of my pain._

_They bloom when I’m with you and I could hardly breathe._

* * *

Eiji blamed it to the alcohol.

As most bad decisions and all misfortunes often starts out.

No scratch that.

He blamed to the man’s crass behavior and smart mouth.

“ _Do you use kids for assistants in Japan?”_

Damn him. That was his first words weren’t they? That was the first thing he said to him. Smart mouth, arrogant smirk, amusement plastered in the lines of his face that glowed even on the dim lights of that underground club, dim golden lights dancing on his face, quite the picturesque look. Eiji would know. These were the things that mattered. He was a photographer after all.

Golden lights, a frighteningly beautiful face. Too beautiful. Eiji wanted to capture it, to immortalize it in ink and print and glossy paper. Damningly beautiful, and jade eyes that was too clear to be real. Intelligent jade eyes that stared at him with this curiosity, eyes that were too unfathomable.

_I’m older than you._

But those eyes looked way older than both of them. Those were the eyes of a veteran soldier, of a old soul. And he snickered, something between a short huffs of a laugh that he somehow pulled off as charming. Damn him.

_Is that gun real?_

Damn Eiji. He supposed curiosity was something common in them then.

Everyone was staring at them, staring at him and this man, hungry eyes that followed every breath, every movement, every single thing. The man looked at him, jade eyes even more curious, even more amused, even more unreadable as he handed out the gun to Eiji’s deft fingers. They don’t brush, and yet Eiji could feel the phantom touch of those fingers, something that was warm and calloused despite never really meeting, despite never really touching. Something just short out of a disaster, an explosion of some kind, some revelation perhaps.

He’s a sharpshooter, he’s a wild cat, never to be tamed, a maelstrom, a gang leader, a boss.

_Ash Lynx, huh?_

Eiji took another sip from his drink. He choked up and coughed. Perhaps he still wasn’t used to the burn of the liquor. What does he know anyway?

So for now, he’ll blame it to the alcohol.

* * *

“ _If I’m gonna die anyways, at least I’ll die trying_.”

He was absolutely stupid.

That was all he could say. Absolutely goddamn stupid. Batshit crazy. That absolutely mad Japanese boy. He went and did it. He went and flew.

How curious, this little creature too far out of Ash’s world.

But Ash couldn’t take his eyes off him, from the take off to the highest point of jumping, that little pause mid-air to the fall. He held his breath and stared, soaked in every detail as if it was all in slow motion. And All Ash could think was.

_How lucky. He could fly._

Everything went to hell after that. He coughed up blood before they managed to knock him out.

* * *

The next time they meet, it had been in a hospital bed.

Battered, bruised, but not broken. He looked worse for wear. He stared at the window, with this easy calmness that had been absent since the days they met. This man…this man…he looked so sad, so small against this vast cruel world.

The sound of the door opening made him turn around.

Those jade green eyes were still the same, perhaps even kinder, softer than those coldness from when they first met. Like the color of grass, or perhaps fire if it had been the color green. Warm for a moment, tender if only for a split second, glad if only for a while.

“ _There were no mats, huh?_ ”

And there’s still that arrogant smirk. Or perhaps what he meant was playful. A boyish grin, mischief twinkling in his eyes, the lines of his face looked younger. The bright light of the bright afternoon sun caressed his face. Oh how the sun loved him. Light just seemed to emanate from his entire being, a beacon endlessly burning. He was the sun, a light source.

Eiji’s fingers itched to hold his camera, to see this through a viewfinder, to hold the heavy weight of his lens while he captures this: the easy smile on the man’s lips, the youthful air of his entire being, this casualness as if they did not exist outside this hospital room smelling of antiseptic, chlorine and ethyl alcohol. How strange. Ash Lynx had probably seen better days, bruised face and busted lip, dark circles under his eyes. Still he was devastatingly beautiful.

Devastatingly beautiful and yet…

And yet…

“ _You’re a lousy liar._ ”

He said this with such ease, that certainty of being right, such confidence. He called him out and yet Eiji did not feel offense, only sheepishness. This man was some kind of magnet that made people gravitate towards his orbit. He had wondered how men could follow one man without question, one young man. Perhaps Eiji does not really understand, perhaps he’s well on the way to. Perhaps.

“ _I envy you._ ”

He said softly with a smile still, looking away as he does so. Now the picture has changed while the silvery light of the huge hospital windows dims when a flock of birds flew away, silhouettes passing on their faces. That peaceful face was quite melancholic after all. 

Before Eiji knew, tears had started rolling down his cheeks, falling from his eyes. There’s a throbbing in his chest, something deep and aching. It hurt like no other pain had. He felt sorry, he felt pain, he felt anger, he felt so much sadness it hurt.

He ran out of the room before he choked on his own sobs.

* * *

Hand on the cheek, a caress to the jaw, fingers running through jet black tresses. This was normal, this was done in clockwork. In fact it had been too clinical to be real.

_Come alone next time…_

Hold his cheek firmly, stare directly in his eye, move closer and pull him nearer, tip his chin up just slightly. Close your eyes and press your lips slowly. Count one…two…Like an actor on the stage, this was practiced, detached. Part his lips gently, open mouthed, yes, just like that. When he submits, slip in a tongue.

Push the pill. Pass on the message.

Stare at his eyes meaningfully. Hope he’ll understand.

This was too clinical, too clockwork to be real. But the weight of his cheek on his palm was heavy for the rest of the day, and who would’ve thought the boy’s hair would be so soft, who would’ve thought his eyes would be so dark and round and expressive? There was no tingling on Ash’s lips, his dry and cracked lips from the cold wind and his bad habit of biting them. No, but Ash had thought about it a lot. That scene. It played on his mind like a theater with no other movie to show.

His name was Eiji, and this Japanese boy proved to be something else.

It was not the best kiss. It was not his first. But somehow it was he one couldn’t forget.

Something in his chest constricted at that memory. Something too deep to dig out, an itch in the inside one cannot scratch, dull pain that throbbed underneath.

He decided to quash it away.

* * *

The world stopped for a few seconds.

Eiji was certain of it.

One moment it had been a normal conversation, and then suddenly it was…

An explosion. A disaster. A catastrophe. A miracle. A revelation. A way of salvation. Damnation. Redemption. A sin.

A kiss.

It was his first kiss.

Ash was kissing him so suddenly and so out of the blue, so abrupt. And yet perhaps it was not so out of the blue after all. And ah there was that constricting in his chest again, the tightening in his ribcage where his heartbeat was pounding twice as hard, and blood was rushing all over his face, to his fingertips and the rest of his body.

Perhaps it was not so out of the blue after all.

He coughed, clutching at his mouth while he spat out the pill, reading the secret message. Some prickling feeling encased his chest, something close to anxiety but also not quite. He does not have a word for it. But he feels it, a heaviness in his heart like a blanket, thin like a veil yet weighty as the ocean which attempts to drown you.

A means to an end. Convenient and clever if Eiji had to say.

He wondered why his chest felt heavy at that.

* * *

Everything hurt, all different kinds of hurt were mixing Ash might’ve gone crazy already. All kinds of terrible things, all kinds of hell, all circles and back, he’s been through it all.

Everything hurt.

Everything.

Every single damn thing.

And then there was Eiji.

Why was he still here? It was dangerous to stay with him, so why? Why was this boy still following him around? Through blood and sweat and gunpowder burns and bullets. Why would this boy never ever leave his side?

_Eiji Okumura._

He was a different kind of hurt.

* * *

To Eiji, there was something stirring in his chest whenever he saw Ash lately, something was alive in his lungs, something creeped in his heart. Or perhaps, he was only becoming conscious of it now, this quaint feeling that throbbed with the pulsing of his arteries that stretched like the blue and reds of his veins, deep in his body.

It ached, like nothing before had ached in him. Not even those from the past could compare. Here, this sight, Ash on the window sill, blowing over his mug of coffee, cheeky grin still pasted on his face. After everything they went through, it was good to see it again. Eiji is reminded of a different scene, a different picture from not so long ago. In a hospital bed, a very gentle smile. The sun kissed him like the sun did back then as well. Ash was truly beloved by the light and Eiji was feeling that itch once more.

This Ash was so different from the Ash of L.A or the Ash of the New York gang. The Ash from a while ago, the leader was just the same. These men follow his every words, his very utterance is law. He is their leader, their king. Ash was a beacon, and people were simply drawn to him. Eiji wondered if it was this reason that he simply could not part ways with this American.

Regardless, this Ash with him now was so different from the other ones. This smiling American who shared childhood stories, who ate lunch with him. This was his favorite one, despite them all co-existing side by side.

And it hurt. It hurt so much, Eiji never knew where it was coming from. Something in his insides twisted and clawed, blocked his breathing as if his lungs were clogged. It hurt, so much that it was starting to manifest in a physical ache, this sudden urge of his to capture this moment. Or better yet, touch Ash, to hold him in his hands.

Oh it hurt.

Especially when he cried in his arms that night, when he confessed one of the burdens weighing him down. It hurt to see him beg Eiji to be held, to be accompanied, pleaded Eiji to stay. And this beautiful man, oh this man...

This man…

This man is nothing more than a child.

There was some tightening in his chest that crawled up to his throat, scratching, prickling as if thorns had grown from within.

This man…this man…

It rooted within his chest and curled to his heart.

* * *

They never really tell you when it happens.

Because one day you’ll wake up and you’ll realize that the thing you’ve avoided had creeped way past its walls and grown too far, too late. It has rooted in your flesh and seeped from your blood, branching out from your lungs and crawling up your throat, choking you ahead.

Eiji Okumura. Ash confessed his worries to this man. Last night before he slept, he remembered crying. He remembered the comfort that had washed him, the warmth of the hand on his back, the heat of his palm that seeped through the thin material of his shirt, burning him into the lull of sleep.

This absurd, unfathomable Japanese boy. How does he does it? How does he make magic out of the mundane? How does he make the ordinary extraordinary? Griffin used to tell him it was easy to make bizarre things into exceptional, but it was a gift to make the conventional into something special. One could always be infatuated with the flowers in the garden, but it was a blessing to find love with the weeds.

And Ash was a weed wasn’t he? He was a daffodil, all that petals but when all was said and done, he was nothing but a weed. He’s trying so hard to keep himself together, but a single gust in the wind could blow it all away.

This mad, unfathomable, crazy, amazing Japanese boy, who stayed with him regardless. Stumbled in the darkness of Ash’s life, of the grimness of his situation. He fell, and crawled, and he limped his way, never giving up. This boy was strong. He looked all the shit in his life, all the dangers, the blood and the gunshots and the wounds, still he stayed by Ash’s side. Was he really allowed to ask for forever? And oh he fell asleep on top of him. And Ash was a curious creature by default so he eased up the boy gently and set him on the mattress with care. He was so warm to touch, peacefully sleeping and too tranquil in the stillness that Ash wouldn’t ever think this man was real. This man was too good to be true.

Curled into himself, hands tucked beneath his cheeks, a sliver of skin peeking from under the hem of his dark pink shirt. He looks so young, too young. Ash could never believe he was older than him. There’s these feelings in him as he stared at this young man sleeping quietly on his bed, these feelings of…

 _Protectiveness._ Yes, he wanted to protect him. He didn’t ever want for him to get hurt. Yes but not quite, it wasn’t only that. Something else curled in his lungs that stopped his breathing and wrapped around his chest. This feeling was… It was…

It was…

Ash felt a sharp pain on his chest as he started coughing away, drawn deep inside him. And his heart was pounding hard on his ribcage. He clasped a hand on his mouth and he ran to the bathroom. Something burned in the pit of his stomach, like acid but not quite, something like phlegm stuck in his throat and the next thing he knew he was hacking up…

_Blood?!_

No. They were not blood droplets that were on his hands. They were too soft and velvety to be blood, not to mention it was not liquid. His mouth tasted no bile, instead it was this earthy taste of plants and dew, something like grass, something like leaves.

Petals?

Yes, they were petals. Ash confirmed. And he picked up one from his palm to examine it some more. How curious. It was impossible, something was wrong. He couldn’t have actually vomited flowers. But here was the evidence anyway, thrown all over the entire goddamn floor.

Ash got rid of all the evidence. He didn’t want to see it. Something about it was just so wrong.

Contemplative, he sat on the window sill to stare at the sunrise creep over the concrete buildings of New York, wondering what it could possibly mean.

* * *

There were yellow camellia petals all over Eiji’s bed in the apartment Ash had bought for them.

He’d been coughing it for the past five minutes now, the soft, velvety petals spewing out of his mouth. This had been happening for a long time now. The throbbing in his chest hardly subsided, even more so now that they stayed in this apartment all the time. Him and Ash together, spending time almost every day when Ash wasn’t out. And now he was coughing out flowers out of his mouth.

He tried to hide them from Ash all this time.

He tried arranging them neatly in vases, just like back in Japan. _Ikebana_ , the art of flower arranging. Ash seemed fascinated when he mentioned it to him, a memory of Eiji’s mother quickly making an arrangement with her deft fingers, basing all the meaning from _hanakotoba_. Flowers have meaning, she said. Oh yes, flowers had secret messages.

And yellow camellias meant _longing_ weren’t it?

Was Eiji longing for Ash?

Eiji threw another coughing fit. More yellow petals fell from his lips and scattered itself on the floor. A sharp pain pierced through his lungs and this time, Eiji instinctively clutched at his chest.

Oh.

That seemed to explain it.

* * *

He’s coughing them out again.

Ash hated it so much.

He hated how it hurt. He hated how it pierced his chest. He couldn’t deal with this right now, damn it. It hurt. He was choking up. No longer were only petals falling out of his mouth, but this time full flowers were replacing them instead. Red tulips sprung out of his mouth and crawled out from his lips.

He could feel the roots spreading from his chest throughout his body. He could feel them growing larger and longer. Peculiarly, they only grow when he sees Eiji’s smile, when he touches him, when he hears his laugh, when he thinks of him. Ash could feel them bloom within him.

He couldn’t stay here. He had to leave. For Eiji’s sake. He had to leave. And Eiji had to return to Japan. He had to leave. Eiji would be back to where he belonged, back to safety, back to his home, far from the gore, far from the bloodshed, far from the violence. And he’ll forget about America. He’ll forget about New York, and he’ll forget about Ash. (His chest twisted at this) He couldn’t say goodbye, couldn’t watch him go because if he did, he wouldn’t ever be able to do so. He wasn’t strong enough. So he had to leave.

But the thought of leaving only made the pain sharper. He needed a fucking doctor damn it. He needed…he needed….

He didn’t know what he needed.

* * *

He was out by the railway to Coney Island when it happened.

The flowers that he spewed were speckled with red dots. Blood. He could taste it in his mouth as well.

There were so many people then. So many things were happening as well. A fight, death, police sirens everywhere. Eiji had so much anxiety and dread all over him as it happened. He was coughing as he ran, and he ran like he’s never had before. Not even when he was pole vaulting had he ever did. And petals spewed out of his throat as he’d done so, nearly fainting with the lack of oxygen.

He wouldn’t have even seen it until he was sitting inside a prison cell behind bars, when everything else had caught up to him. The image of Ash killing someone for real. It had been the first time Eiji had really seen that side of Ash.

“ _I don’t want you to see me when I’m like this!_ ”

Eiji pondered on those lines he had uttered, how he howled the, like an animal cornered, how anguished his face was when he yelled this. There was so much pain, Eiji wanted to take it off him, wanted to comfort him, wanted to protect him. Funny isn’t it? He was powerless, he wasn’t strong enough. But these thoughts plagued him constantly. The tightening in his chest got worse at every thought, and the flower had appeared. It was getting worse. It was getting direr. And it’ll only get worse from here.

And when Ash was proclaimed dead to the world, Eiji had been coughing up non-stop.

They were daisies these time. _Faithfulness_.

He had faith. He couldn’t be dead.

No. He’s know if he was dead.

* * *

Ash had to run away.

He couldn’t be caught with these. He shouldn’t be seen with them. Eiji couldn’t see him like this.

These bloody flowers, these petals and vines and thorns, these… _feelings_.

This was dangerous. This was going to kill him.

But Ash had been so touched starved and he missed this so much, fuck and he couldn’t help but want to be in physical contact with the man. He wanted to press himself against his flesh, deep into his skin until every single pore has been filled with nothing but Eiji’s essence. They haven’t seen each other for so long, he breathed in all of his scent. This familiar scent of detergent and cologne and sweat and (isn’t it a little cruel?) _flowers,_ that had grown over him as Eiji stayed in his America, very different from the too clinical scent of antiseptics and bleach he’s been accustomed for the days he spent on that shitty mental institute. He breathed in the scent, his chest tightening in response, another bud blooming within.

His body was a garden. Butterflies lived in his stomach, but his lungs were growing flowers. All of them come alive when he sees Eiji.

He couldn’t help it. 

Ash lived in a cold cruel world. If you wanted to live, you had to adapt and so his defenses are shields of frost and ice, and every cold cruelty you shoot him with only makes it stronger. But faced with the warmth of his being? His defenses melt and Ash is weak to his presence.

It was a bad idea. It was a terrible idea.

Some new flower was starting to bloom inside him once again, threatening to crawl out of his throat. Ash shut his mouth tighter, clenching his jaw despite the pain of it.

He got his arms up and wrapped them back around Eiji.

* * *

A bullet grazed on his arm and his face was burning hot with fever.

He was nearly shot awhile ago from a stray bullet. Was it really a stray? The implications of it not being one was something Eiji didn’t want to consider.

A fever and his constant coughing. How wonderful.

At least Ash wasn’t around to see him suffer more. It would only worry him. He didn’t need that. It was the exact reason why he didn’t need to know about Eiji’s problem either. This disease, this lovesick disease that could only be cured with love as well. Eiji could never burden Ash with that.

Most especially with him busy and always in danger.

Eiji knew that Ash was always out risking himself. He was fighter first and foremost, a soldier and warrior. Eiji was just a photographer. All Eiji knew was how to take photographs and images, immortalize colors and shapes, assemble tripods, and capture the perfect light.

To Eiji ‘shooting’ meant a very different thing to Ash. Ash’s ‘shooting’ was a bloody thing, a tool for self-preservation. Eiji did not know his life, did not know what it’s meant to be in his shoes. 

Ash looked calm when he left. He looked calm and was smiling a soft and gentle smile. There, Eiji knew he was lying. He only ever becomes that calm when he’s untruthful. Eiji worried.

He spat out a bunch of pink roses. _Trust_.

Well, there really wasn’t anything else he could do now, was there?

 _God, pleased protect him_.

Eiji repeated in a mantra in his head as he laid down in bed.

_Please please please._

He choked out another pink rose.

* * *

Blanca had looked at him with criticism and perhaps, sympathy if you wanted to look for it.

Ash was already on his knees, vomiting long bloody purple flowers and stalks out of his mouth while Blanca watched on, talking about bullshit and how he should return to fucking Dino like nothing was ever wrong. As if that entire place wasn’t fake, as if that kingdom did not stood on a mountain of lies and that throne he was sitting on was not built from crime and death. No, he did not want to be anywhere near that.

Blanca said nothing while Ash was still spitting out petals.

It was Hanahaki disease, he explained. A disease that makes flowers bloom in your chest due to unrequited love. Blanca urged Ash to take those things off him. It can be done.

“ _It’ll take your feelings for that Japanese boy but you will live_.”

_Leave me alone._

He was supposed to say this with more anger and bite, but it came out weak, and tired and resigned. He figured them out now, these blue and purple things. These were hyssop. These bloodied things, pretty things. He crushed one with his palm. The red stained his hand. He was battered, bruised with broken bones and gashes. He was bleeding, but nothing compared to the hurt inside him as he thought of Eiji’s smiling face.

_I’m happy now._

Ash rested his cheeks on the cool dusty floor of that empty warehouse.

_Because at least I know there is one guy who cares for me, and wants nothing in return. I can’t believe how lucky I am. It’s the happiest feeling in the world._

And oh god he meant it. This was one of the most sincere things he’s said in his life, the rawest form of truthfulness he could offer. He grasped the hyssop with such strength, he was crushing it already, pressing it to his lips until his lips were stained with the blood as well, slowly drying.

_Please don’t kill him._

He pleaded to the man with tears in his eyes.

_I beg you. Don’t hurt him._

And tears did fall from his jade eyes on to the concrete floor.

* * *

Ash was curled on a blanket, sleeping peacefully for the moment so Eiji had to be quiet. His coughing shouldn’t wake him. He looked so frail, so weak, so pale, so…so…

Breakable.

Eiji did not know which hurt more. To be parted or to see him in so much pain. It’s been months since they have last scene each other, months since that horrible day when he woke up day after day and still had no idea where Ash was, spending the rest of every passing hour worrying about him, of every passing day puking these cursed things.

And then he found out he’s sacrificed himself again.

_For him._

Eiji’s coughing fit that night had been the worst of all he’s had so far. He remembered the tears that mixed with the blood and flowers, the burning in his throat that definitely was bile mixed. Oh god how he suffered, how much it hurt.

He couldn’t just stay here. He had to do something.

And now Ash was next to him. It was a miracle that rescue mission was even successful with Eiji just a few seconds from collapsing. It was so hard to breath with flowers clogging your airways. Ash was always leaving him. Ash was always going somewhere, leaving Eiji to desperately chase after him. Eiji didn’t want to be left alone.

Never again.

Yellow tulips sat on his tongue. _One sided love_. Because of course the universe had to be cruel as to remind him that Ash would never reciprocate.

He threw all of them on the blazing fire.

* * *

It was pretty inconvenient for this to happen now. He tried to keep it in. Stealth was the key to victory here after all and he couldn’t do it when he’s spitting bloodied flowers every single goddamn minute.

But he can’t help it can he? He worried too much about Eiji. His mind strayed too much to the Japanese boy despite him on a game of cat and mouse with death.

He couldn’t mess up now. Not when he’s holding hostages. Not with Yut-Lung in his grasp. Not when they have captured his friends, not when they were kept hostage.

Eiji was captured as well.

Fuck.

Ash swallowed down a thorny bud.

Maybe if he wasn’t so weak right now, maybe if wasn’t so sickly, maybe if Dino hadn’t drugged him like crazy in that fucking mansion of his, if only if only if only…

He was miserable in that place, spending his days as a ghost, a shell of his former self. What was left were nothing but impressions of him as he laid in the hospital bed, not exactly dead, but not exactly living. Alive, but dying. Memories of those days filled him in the short pauses of waiting.

_He laid on the bedroom floor, cheek stinging with pain, lips split, blood dripping from his mouth. But he was numb, as everything were these days. It didn’t matter. Who knew what day it was, who knew what time it was. Everything bled into each other, everything mixed into inseparable moments he could never tell apart. Nothing mattered, not even him._

_A mansion like this could be so damn big, could be filled with a hundred servants, a hundred different people and he can still feel so alone. This mansion was a haunting mausoleum for him where he will live for the rest of his days. Buried in grave despite still being alive._

_Adopting him? That fucker was out of his mind._

_And in the dark emptiness of that large room, Ash laughed a loud depraved laugh bordering hysteria, desperation and madness. The cold wickedness of his laughter echoed all around him. He laughed, because there really wasn’t anything else he could do. Tears streamed down his face, tears of sadness or ecstasy, he didn’t know. His mind was damn near breaking._

_He choked on his own spit and coughed, breaking out of his hysterics. Coughing. He was spitting flowers again huh._

_Blue and purple five petal flowers littered the floor, their yellow centers bright in contrast to the coolness of their petals. They smell sweet, of only not mixed with blood, and yet the only sweet thing he’s gotten a whiff in this godforsaken place._

_Forget-me-nots._

_Ah yes. These were his feelings for Eiji, the physical manifestation of his pain, of something so costly, but so beautiful._

_Eiji._

_How could he forget? Was he not the reason why he’s here? So long as he’s safe, Ash had vowed to do anything for him._

_Ash blinked the tears in his eyes, hands scrambling to pick up the fallen forget-me-nots. He clutched at them desperately as a reminder who all this was for. This disease did not make his condition any better. His terrible health condition made it hurt more and spread faster. Ash was certain he was dying now. But he’d rather these flowers kill him than Dino._

_Blanca insisted once more to have them taken out. But Ash would first die than let them._

_There were only a few things keeping him sane in that place._

_Warm hands, strong arms, and a firm chest. Black doe eyes that crinkle when they smile, lips that stretch into a full childish grin, broken English laced with his Japanese accent that always managed to soften those words into something else. The scent of the detergent, soap and minty shampoo they bought on the supermarket downstairs, and flowers that seemed to cling to him always. These were the things that mattered weren’t it?_

_Purple flowers that fell from his lips, the pain that clung to his chest and spread way long in his body. A painful physical manifestation of his love._

_And the fact that he loved Eiji Okumura was the only reason why he still lived._

* * *

After a coughing fit so early in the morning, he stared at this charm of red paper and golden tassel in his hand. More yellow tulips tumbled out of his lips. How he was still alive was a question he could not answer.

He greeted the sunrise with a pile of flowers in his arms and the paper charm on one hand.

He remembered when his sister pushed this on his hand in the airport just as he was boarding the plane. That cheeky little brat.

“ _It’s a love charm. Find yourself an American girlfriend. Or maybe you’ll get a boyfriend instead. Go and find love._ ”

Cheeky brat.

The funny thing of course, was that she was right. He did find love.

Izumo was the land of the gods. The god of love resides in the temple near his house, Okuninushi-no-mikoto, that old worn down temple made of wood and stone. In some way, he must’ve really existed. In some way, gods must’ve really been real, walking around this earth and meddling with mortal’s lives. On some cruel way, that god must’ve seen him and decided to make him fall.

But as they said, Cupid is often blind or forgetful. He often forgets to shoot the other man. And so Eiji was only ever the one to fall.

Eiji was familiar with falling. He was familiar of the sensation of it all. You cannot pole vault without learning how to fall. Eiji Okumura, the star athlete was a lifetime away. A broken ankle made sure of that. The fall then had been frightening. The feeling of flying, that one moment of being in the peak, and then the embrace of gravity that weighs you down. That moment of uncertainty, that moment of weakness. You never know if you’ll make it. It was a hit or miss kind of thing. And at some point he never did.

This kind of falling had been somewhat similar, but different all the same.

Eiji regarded the charm with hollowness he could not explain. There was something melancholic with this thing, something that reeks of loneliness, something that’s just sad.

He could feel the vines curling out to his ribs and into his back.

Eiji threw the tulips away. But something made him keep the charm.

* * *

Ash couldn’t do this anymore.

It was unfair.

He couldn’t touch him with such gentleness and make him feel this agony. He couldn’t be so tender to him and cause so much pain. But Ash allows it anyway, and he will forever if he could. No, it’s not that he allows it. That would be a lie. He wanted it, needed it, craved it like some starved and depraved man dying of thirst.

Just one touch. How? How does he do it?

In just a single touch, he calmed down the maelstrom brewing inside him. All the shudders in him, the coldness. One single touch and Ash had stopped shaking. The tumult of emotions, this oily feeling of disgust clinging into him like slime and sludge in his body.

Eiji had stared at him with his dark eyes, a look that was asking silently for permission. Ash had not shied away from the hands that held him, rested them on his nape, fingers slowly making circles on his skin, playing a little on his hair soothingly.

Ash was no fragile thing. Ash had made sure to become the toughest thing ever, the most unbreakable. He had hardened himself into steel and stone. But Eiji’s hands always managed to make him feel malleable, bendable. He always melted in the Japanese’s presence.

The tension in Ash’s body slowly left. Eiji pressed his forehead gently against his chest and said nothing else. But Ash knew, oh he knew. A silent conversation was passed between them, significant unsaid words hung in the air. They did not need to say it. Eiji knew. Ash understood.

He fucking loved this man.

He fucking love this man.

Ash loves Eiji.

So so much he didn’t think he’d live without him. But if anything, Ash was drowned with the feeling of guilt with these emotions. He felt a lot like tainting something pure by wanting Eiji to stay. He could not do that to him. He could not tie Eiji to him, he could not burden him with Ash any longer.

Ash spat out a clumps of purple flowers. _Hyacinth_. He recognized.

Ah. Was he meant to be Apollo then? Accidentally killing his lover whose death has been determined by the fates.

What a morbid omen.

How appropriate.

Ash gathered the hyacinths and kept them in his pocket.

* * *

Eiji was dying.

He was certain of it.

Ironically enough it wasn’t because of the disease.

Huh.

Wasn’t that something? He’s always thought it was the flowers that would consume him, that he’d finally succumb to the pain in his chest, the throbbing in his lungs. No, apparently a sharp bullet in his gut would be the one to do it.

Well, there’s one thing he wasn’t wrong about. It was still his love for this beautiful, dumb American that caused this. The last thing he remembered was the image of Ash desperately shaking him awake, calling his name over and over again, wailing. There were gunshots just awhile ago too. Then the corners of his vision stared to blur, darkness was swallowing him.

His mind was thinking about so many things at once, overlapping and mixing one with the other . _I’m glad you’re safe. Thank god. I was useful at least. Please don’t cry. Better me than you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you._

But the last thing he remembered thinking was:

_Ah. His eyes are a darker green near his pupils._

He had drowned in darkness after that.

It wasn’t the flowers that would kill him.

It was never about the flowers. Why on earth did he think that?

No, his love for this man was the death of him.

And the funny thing there was that, he found that he didn’t mind at all.

* * *

He was going to fucking kill him.

Blanca. Yut-Lung. Foxx. Dino.

He did not care who. Whoever was responsible for Eiji getting hurt, Ash was going to kill them. He did not care. He was spitting out peonies from his mouth as he shot at Blanca, bloodier than ever. The wall was taking all his anger. Peonies and forget-me-nots, rhododendron, and tansies. So many different flowers forced themselves out of Ash. His lungs were probably wrecked by now. He had no idea if the scratchiness in his throat was due to this disease or due to his screams.

He did not care

He was going to kill them all.

He was going to raise hell if he needed to.

He will kill them all.

And even then by that window sill, where he bargained to whatever deity would listen, to whatever being in the universe, in whatever god there was to please, please. He was not a religious man. But here, now…

The memory of Eiji falling over, of his face crumpling in anguish and pain, the coppery stench of blood that wafted into Ash’s nose as crimson stained Eiji’s shirt, slowly getting bigger and damper. The life leaving those dark eyes, the sight of Eiji dying….

All that was playing in slow motion in Ash’s mind. He had no escape.

_Eiji, forgive me for not being able to be by your side._

Rhododendron bloomed in his mouth. The taste of bile and earth and dew, mixed with blood in his mouth.

 _Please, don’t take him away from me_.

He clutched at his shirt.

_Please God._

His chest hurt. It hurt. His legs trembled and he collapsed on his knees.

_Take me instead._

* * *

_Somebody…_

_Somebody’s crying._

_What a sad voice._

_What’s he so sad about?_

But it was so dark. And Eiji was so comfortable in the darkness.

_I know this voice._

Still, there was something familiar about it, something that pulled Eiji away from the comfort of darkness, even though reluctant.

_“Sa-yo-na-ra.”_

_Goodbye? What does he mean?_

_Are you going somewhere?_

No. No. No. No. No. No. Don’t leave. He didn’t want him to leave. Eiji didn’t want to be left alone again. Never again!

Fingers first. Then his eyelids, cracking open, pupils dilating. Get used to the brightness, get used to consciousness. One foot then another. Stand up. One step, forward, another. Eiji coughed. Eiji was desperate. He need to get out.

His mouth wasn’t moving. His lips stayed still.

Ash!

He wanted to yell.

Ash! Ash! Ash!

Ashashashashashashash _Ash!_

**“A…sh..!”**

Ash turned around and his eyes widened.

Eiji needed to reach him, to touch him, to feel him, hold him. He needed. He wanted.

One arm, one step, next the other. Closer, closer, _closer._ The gap between them lessened at every drag of his feet. His chest hurt. Eiji could feel his flowers growing again. He could taste the flavor of dew and copper. Just a little bit more. Don’t faint, don’t falter. He’ll crawl if he had to.

He extended an arm, trying to reach. Ash held out his as well. Yards to inches, inches to centimeters, centimeters to millimeters, closer and closer per second. Fingers just within reach.

_Ash!_

Eiji pulled back his hand.

_“Go!”_

Eiji was sobbing. Their fingers don’t brush, and yet Eiji could still feel the phantom touch of those fingers, something that was warm and calloused, despite never really meeting, despite never really touching. Something just short out of a disaster, an explosion of some kind. Those familiar fingers.

Ash’s face crumpled, as if in pain. Tears fell from those jade eyes.

He turned around and left before he could be captured.

_“Don’t go after him!”_

Eiji begged between choked sobs, he was coughing out flowers he didn’t even have the mind to distinguish at that point. Blood was spurting out of his mouth. Maybe his gunshot wound opened up again.

_“Let him go!”_

Eiji thinks he’s fallen back into the darkness.

* * *

He’s said his goodbyes.

They were enough.

This was it. It’s all done. It’s all over. The rest of Banana Fish was swallowed in the flames, ashes blown by the wind. Ash had to be contented. It was lucky he’s even reached this point.

His condition worsened after that night he left Eiji. Ash was almost sure everything inside him by now were nothing but flowers at this point.

He’s talked to Blanca about it. They were sitting on a park bench on a cold autumn morning. Thankfully he wasn’t coughing as violently anymore. Perhaps his body had finally realized that it was too weak to do anything more. Flowers still fell from his lips, bloodier flowers soaked in crimson and he was panting heavily. He did more rasping and croaking than talking at this point.

_I’ll never meet him again._

Was he going to cry?

_But he’s my friend. Even if we never meet again…_

Ash’s chest was too tight, throat too closed up. He was too weak for anything else. He shivered in the coldness of the autumn wind.

_I’m allowed to feel for him right?_

Blanca said nothing. Instead, he said:

“ _What are you going to do now?_ ”

_Nothing. Just be another scum in the city like always._

They both know it was a lie.

He’s ready to end it. He’s ready to say goodbye to this world. He’s said all his goodbyes.

All save one.

* * *

He had not come.

Eiji should’ve known. He had not come. It’s been days and his flight to Japan is drawing even nearer. Time was ticking. The vines had spread throughout his body. The doctors did the best they could to lessen it at least, to slow down its growth, but Eiji knew it was still there buried deep within.

Ibe begged him to have it removed, but that would mean he’ll forget about his feelings for Ash. No he couldn’t do that.

A letter. That was all he could hope for. There was only so little he could do trapped in a chair, bedridden, coughing up flowers every other hour or so.

Sing. He’s his last hope.

_He’s at the library. I know he is._

Eiji was going back to Izumo soon, the land of the gods. There were eight million gods gathered in Izumo. Eiji would pray to all of them if he had to. Eastern, western, he’d pray to them all, beg, plead, bargain, anything for that letter to arrive to Ash on time.

_Please. Just this once. Please._

The charm sits heavy in his jacket’s pocket. For love. Please.

There were thorns on Eiji’s throat. There were vines curled around his heart. Flowers bloomed in his mouth. He coughed a bloodied red spider lily. That was not a good omen.

_Please._

Even as he boarded the plane to Japan, red spider lilies littered on his lap.

* * *

Ash was ready to die.

The flowers had long claimed his body. But he supposed that was alright. Eiji had long claimed his soul, and the flowers are physical manifestations of that.

He was coughing as quietly as he can, sitting on the rose reading room of the New York Public Library while buds and roses fell from his lips. He wasn’t so sure if they were really this red, or if it was the blood that made it so. Red roses.

Irony could be such a bitch, wasn’t it? Griffin would’ve found it poetic. Shorter would’ve called him dramatic. And Eiji…

What would Eiji think?

He eyed the letter he had yet to read which Sing had dropped off before dashing off to the airport.

_“But there isn’t any time left!”_

_No,_ Ash thought bitterly, _There isn’t. There isn’t any time at all._

The flowers in Ash’s body meant unrequited love. The fact that he was still coughing them up meant only one thing. Ash was going to die. He was certain of it. He couldn’t go to Eiji. He couldn’t see him like this. He couldn’t see him die like this.

He left the library to read the letter outside.

The paper was thick for a single letter. Just a little rough, a little thick for a normal paper. He smoothened it in his fingers, reading the wonky handwriting on the surface, stark white against the creamy white of the envelope.

_For Ash._

With trembling hands he opened the flap.

Here was a ticket. For him. It’s for him to Japan. And more of Eiji’s handwriting greeted him.

_Ash. I’m worried to death because I haven’t seen you doing well…_

Ash read the letter, skimming through the blackness of the ink. Ash coughed more roses at every passing word. Tears gathered on his eyes.

_…But I always felt like I had to protect you…_

Ash hastily got up, suddenly desperate like a wounded animal seeking for help. He didn’t think. He just moved despite the pain in his chest.

His heartbeat thundered in his ribcage despite it being so faint already.

It was snowing already.

His legs burned. His entire body burned. It was hot, cold, everything in between. Red rose petals trailed in his wake, falling down the pavement. Its thorns had gone past his throat and settled on his mouth, protruding out of his lips. Only the thought of Eiji was in his head.

_Eiji._

Sharp pain.

From his chest?

No. It wasn’t just from his chest.

A knife had stabbed him in the gut.

Petals fell on the pavement.

No. That was blood.

Did it even make a difference at this point?

The letter had fallen as well. Ash scrambled to gather them back together, clutched at them in desperation and oh, they were stained with his blood now. The sidewalk was cold but it really didn’t matter at this point did it? Nothing else mattered, only this. This thin paper with the wonky handwriting. It was the handwriting of a clumsy Japanese with the warmest hugs and the darkest pair of eyes, who smelled of grocery store mint shampoo and detergent and flowers.

Ash limped back to the library.

_You’re not alone._

He slumped on the chair. The roses stopped falling. The thorns in his throat stopped growing.

_I’m by your side._

Ash’s eyes were moist once again. His hands trembled.

_My soul is always with you._

Ah. Tears had fallen off and had wet the paper. Unknowingly, he’s started crying again.

He stared up at the ceiling. It was the painting of the sky, of heaven.

He was happy. At the very end at least, before he left this world, at least….

He knew what Eiji felt all this time.

And that was enough.

* * *

For Eiji, life so far had been nothing but bouquets of red spider lilies.

Seven years. This had been going on for seven years.

It had been a long ride as well.

Red spider lilies were all over the floor of his gallery from where he stood to view this one photograph he could not part with.

Eiji remembered when he took this picture.

 _He had just woken up, a charming smile on his face. Bright against the sunlight, sitting by the windowsill. And there’s still that playful smile, and what Eiji had once thought was arrogant smirk, that never really changed. A boyish grin, mischief twinkling in his eyes, the lines of his face looked younger. The bright light of the bright afternoon sun had never stopped caressing his face. Oh how the sun loved him. Light just seemed to emanate from his entire being, a beacon endlessly burning. He was the sun, a light source_.

_He was still devastatingly beautiful._

_Eiji begged for that picture, pleaded for him to stay there and let him take that picture._

Eiji coughed, cutting off his distant reverie. This disease never really did stop over the years. Seven years. He’s gone through this for seven years.

Sing saw him all over the floor with these flowers littered beside him, blood caked in on his lips.

He begged Eiji to take it off. To take it all off.

But Eiji never really could.

He was just tired. He was really tired.

_Sayonara._

He regretted teaching him that word.

_I know we’ll meet again, no matter how far apart we are._

Oh they were going to soon.

Eiji was so tired.

He sat on the floor, leaning on the wall just below the framed photograph. There were flowers around him. What a perfect place to rest.

He fluttered his eyes shut slowly. His limbs heavy already. The pounding of his chest was hard, but slow. It has gotten weaker at every second.

_I’m ready._

Eiji smiled.

_There was an easy smile on the man’s lips, a youthful air of his entire being, this casualness as if nothing else existed beyond him and Eiji. How lovely._

_After all these years, he was even more devastatingly beautiful than ever._

The lilies had stopped falling. The thorns in his throat stopped growing. There was peace in Eiji’s body like he never did before.

_Hello, good to see you again._

The man greeting him had were holding up a bouquet of roses.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah hi. Blame Uwakibon for this. Ahahaha...he's the criminal mastermind. Now if you'll excuse me I'm gonna cry for a bit.


End file.
